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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27465049">Sugar and spice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirilya/pseuds/Mirilya'>Mirilya</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Jobs, Food Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Episode: Good Omens: Lockdown</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:09:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,662</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27465049</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirilya/pseuds/Mirilya</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale had re-discovered the bookshop’s cookbook section, and had taken matters into his own hands. He'd started with bread, worked on through pastries into biscuits, and had ended up at cakes. So many cakes. Pound cake, angel food cake, sachertorte, schwarzwälder kirsch torte with miracled cherries…</p><p>Well, what's next?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sugar and spice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I started this after the lockdown episode, so this takes place in May 2020.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Good night, angel."</p><p>Aziraphale placed the phone back in its cradle with a click.</p><p>"Well."</p><p>His lips turned down in a moue of disappointment as he considered his own words.</p><p>
  <em> Daft angel. Why after all this time did I have to clam up and tell him no? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It's not as though we can become sick or even transmit the virus, for Heaven's sake. </em>
</p><p>Crowley had always been the one to push the boundaries of their relationship, such as it was. He was always the one to go a little too fast, make a bit too presumptuous of a suggestion… that Aziraphale would eventually concede to. Embarrassingly, he'd come to expect that offer, and was thrown a bit by the lack thereof.</p><p>Aziraphale sighed.</p><p>Well. It was too late for such regrets. Crowley did love his sleep and would probably quickly turn in. (Having been <em> thoroughly turned down</em>, Aziraphale thought meanly.) One could only hope that he'd actually awaken in July.</p><p>Just the way he'd offered to <em> slither </em> over just to <em> watch him eat cake </em>had Aziraphale feeling a bit hot under the collar.</p><p>
  <em> Honestly. </em>
</p><p>The offer of a good wine wouldn't have gone amiss, either. Aziraphale had a substantial cellar, but any wine is far better enjoyed with company. Choosing was difficult, but Crowley had a keen sense for suggesting exactly what Aziraphale would enjoy the most. Crowley always did make things more interesting.</p><p>Aziraphale missed when things were interesting. Not <em> too </em> interesting, mind, but in previous seasons there was always some new little restaurant to try or pop-up café to sample. He understood the necessity of the shutdown, but the sudden lack of options was dreadfully boring. </p><p>Aziraphale fidgeted in his chair.</p><p>Usually, Crowley didn't take so long to take the hint. Aziraphale wanted to see him, of course, or he wouldn't have called. </p><p>Aziraphale had re-discovered the bookshop’s cookbook section, and had taken matters into his own hands. He'd started with bread, worked on through pastries into biscuits, and had ended up at cakes. So many cakes. Pound cake, angel food cake, sachertorte, schwarzwälder kirsch torte with miracled cherries…</p><p>
  <em> Well, what's next? </em>
</p><p>Buns and rolls were next, and Aziraphale licked his lips at the idea of sweet cinnamon rolls with a vanilla glaze. Maybe he'd add a touch of fruit to make it really pop. Orange, perhaps. Or apple.</p><p>His mind made up, Aziraphale wandered into the kitchen to start some yeast dough. Two proofs and a roll with cinnamon sugar later, he stood sifting powdered sugar into a bowl with melted butter, milk, and vanilla. The rolls in question sat cooling on a rack, and the whole kitchen smelled more like Heaven than the real thing had ever dreamed.</p><p>Suddenly, there was a faint <em> whiff </em> and a surge of power from behind him. </p><p>"Hullo, Angel."</p><p>Aziraphale jumped with a shout, whirling around and launching a surprisingly well-aimed cup of confectioner's sugar directly at the offending demon's chest.</p><p>Crowley blinked at Aziraphale through a cloud of white dust, stunned.</p><p>"Crowley! What are you doing here?"</p><p>Crowley pulled a face once he realized what he was coated in. His once-black coat was covered in white dust, and he snapped the whole thing away.</p><p>"Suppose I should be grateful that wasn't holy water."</p><p>"Pardon me for being startled when you appeared behind me in my own kitchen, after saying you'd sleep until <em> July,</em>" Aziraphale snipped.</p><p>Crowley grimaced.</p><p>"Well, y'know… I was, nghhh…" He made a noncommittal gesture that completely failed to get his or any other point across.</p><p>Aziraphale quirked an eyebrow.</p><p>"I just. Ah. Thinking, yeah? 'bout things."</p><p>"Oh? What things would those be?"</p><p>Crowley hemmed and hawed for a moment before mumbling half a reply. “That you might, <em> y’know</em>...” </p><p>Crowley sniffed the air, his tongue peeking out between his lips for a moment.</p><p>"Is that cinnamon?"</p><p>"What? Yes.” Aziraphale crossed his arms over his chest, still feeling a bit put out. “You haven't answered my question, Crowley."</p><p>Crowley looked away guiltily. “...that you’d want my company,” he murmured, barely audible, and Aziraphale firmly contained his delight. Well, he thought, Crowley <em> had </em> eventually taken the hint, so he couldn't stay too upset. Aziraphale decided to take pity on him, a smile blooming across his face.</p><p>"Come up here, my dear."</p><p>Aziraphale patted his hand on the worktop.</p><p>"You're not serious."</p><p>"Of course I am, dear boy. Now please, come here before I change my mind."</p><p>Crowley could form no coherent response and in the pause awkwardly slunk a bit closer.</p><p>"Ah- right, then."</p><p>No sooner had he approached than Aziraphale grabbed him by his narrow hips and lifted him up onto the worktop.</p><p>"Wha?! Angel, what-" Crowley spluttered, face flushing as he was thoroughly manhandled. Crowley could feel himself growing hard in his trousers. Aziraphale's strength had always been a turn-on, and being subjected to it directly was always a source of wonder. This wasn't exactly what he'd expected after finally convincing himself to visit, but he wasn't about to protest.</p><p>"I’ve eaten nothing but pastries for the past two weeks, Crowley. Now if you’ll be so kind as to <em> hold still</em>…”</p><p>Crowley whimpered as Aziraphale claimed his mouth in a searing kiss, stepping between his thighs and clasping his lapels with powerful yet slightly sugary hands. Crowley melted against him, drinking in the overwhelming affection. After a moment Aziraphale pulled back with a breathless smile and sank to his knees, making quick work of Crowley’s belt and trouser fastenings. </p><p>Crowley’s eyes rolled back and a strangled ‘ngk’ escaped his throat as his cock was enveloped in wet heat, taken straight to the root. Aziraphale sucked Crowley’s dick like a man-shaped being possessed, hollowing his cheeks and doing incredible things with his tongue that Crowley hadn’t expected anyone else could do. </p><p>Aziraphale pulled back with a slurp and began to stroke him with sugar-dusted fingers. His eyes cast about the kitchen and finally caught on the glass bowl into which he’d been sifting sugar when Crowley arrived.</p><p>“Be so kind as to stir that for me, Crowley.”</p><p>Crowley blinked, eyes unfocused, as Aziraphale reached up to nudge the glass bowl toward him. Confused, he did as he was told, stirring the sweet, warm mixture with a wooden spoon. Aziraphale watched him with a pleased smile and chanced a lick up Crowley's stiff cock. Crowley’s fingers went white as he gripped the bowl, stirring with shaky hands as if his life depended on it. In no time at all, the mixture was a smooth liquid, coating the spoon in creamy white icing.</p><p>“Now…” Aziraphale took the bowl from a grateful Crowley and gave the icing another stir. He brought the spoon up to his lips and licked a broad stripe up the back of the spoon with the flat of his pink tongue. “Mmm. Perfect.”</p><p>Crowley swallowed hard.</p><p>“Very good. Thank you, my dear.” Aziraphale’s voice sent a curl of pleasure through him, and his cock twitched between his thighs. Crowley shifted atop the counter, desperately hard.</p><p>“Don’t you worry. There will be plenty left over for the cinnamon rolls. There’s just a special treat here that I simply can’t ignore.”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled innocently, and with deft fingers he expertly drizzled a delicate line of icing over Crowley’s cock, back and forth across its rigid girth. Crowley bit back a gasp at the sensation of warm icing dripping against his skin and quickly cooling in the kitchen air.</p><p>Setting the bowl down gently on the counter, Aziraphale turned his attention back to Crowley’s cock, admiring it with such a passionate look that up til now Crowley had only seen directed at a particularly delectable slice of toffee cake or a rich panna cotta. A shiver of anticipation swept over him at the experience of being the object of that intense gaze. Crowley knew he was going to be devoured, and a moan tore itself from his throat as Aziraphale began licking at the line of icing.</p><p>He rested a hand on Aziraphale’s downy curls, desperately restraining himself from lacing his fingers into Aziraphale’s hair and pulling him even closer. Aziraphale cleaned him with sloppy licks, smearing the white icing across his lips and along Crowley’s cock as he worked. Sweet and salt musk, the rich taste that was simply <em> Crowley </em> coated his tongue and the smell of him filled his senses. Aziraphale's breath came in heavy pants, and he gripped himself with a free hand as his own erection became uncomfortable in his trousers. His fingers fumbled at his fly, as thoroughly invested as he was in tasting every last millimetre of Crowley’s length he needed to find his own release soon. Aziraphale took Crowley fully into his mouth, the head of Crowley’s cock nudging at the back of his throat as Aziraphale licked up every last drop of icing, gazing up at him with knowing blue eyes. Crowley was nearly at his breaking point, his hips twitching up and his thighs spreading wider to allow for better access.</p><p>“Fuck, Aziraphale." Crowley panted, his fingers in a white-knuckle grip on the edge of the counter beside his thighs. "Please-"</p><p>“Mmm.”</p><p>Aziraphale hummed a noise of assent and his eyes fluttered closed as he swallowed deliberately around Crowley’s cock. Crowley’s balls tightened, and with a low groan he was coming, more than he’d ever come during any of his solo wank sessions. Aziraphale groaned in response, his throat working around the head of Crowley’s cock until he pulled back just enough for Crowley’s hot spend to fill his mouth, coating his tongue. Aziraphale pulled off with a final lick and a smile, a bit of cum escaping the corner of his mouth and trailing down to his chin. </p><p>Aziraphale looked up at him with a soft expression, a smile on his reddened lips. His cock lay soft against his thigh, his own spend spattered across his trousers and the baseboard. The cinnamon rolls sat cooling in their pan, entirely forgotten.</p><p>“Welcome home, Crowley.”</p>
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